


A Wild One

by writingramblr



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies), Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Tarzan Fusion, Credence Barebone Gets a Hug, Gratuitous Smut, Hurt/Comfort, Inspired by Tarzan, M/M, Naked Cuddling, One Shot, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Top Original Percival Graves, aloe as lube, but its me so, credence crying during sex, graves shushing during sex, new trope there, virgin credence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-12
Updated: 2017-02-12
Packaged: 2018-09-23 18:06:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,509
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9670103
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writingramblr/pseuds/writingramblr
Summary: Something is stalking Credence in the jungle.It might not be as dangerous as he thinks... or is it?





	

**Author's Note:**

> mainly because of this http://loveforcolin.tumblr.com/post/157070110607
> 
>  
> 
> lalalala there is no plot im not procrastinating anything nope.

* * *

Credence looked up from the journal he’d been scribbling in to find that Newt and Tina had somehow gotten ahead of him again. Significantly so in very little time. He frowned slightly, but pressed on, only pausing again in his steps when he realized he could hear something, faint, but like an echo of his movements.

When he held still, it stopped too, and when he started walking again, the noise began again.

Something was stalking him.

He could only hope and pray it wasn’t a leopard, or he would be dead before he even had the chance to scream.

He shuffled forward again, and tried to shrink into himself, huddling close to the nearest tree, before slipping behind it, and peeking out just a tiny bit.

Nothing was behind him, and there were no signs of leaves disturbed or fluttering from a brush of anything beyond a touch of wind.

A storm was coming, and he knew if he didn’t hurry, he’d be caught in it before he reached their shelter.

He breathed steadily and turned back around to continue following the path, making it a few more steps before the echo started up again.

That time, it seemed more, rhythmic, less like some random happening, so he pressed on, and was planning to start running to try and draw whatever it was out.

Unfortunately the next thing he knew he had come upon a low hanging branch and just barely looked up in time to duck, catching his only forehead, still rather heavily on the right side.

He winced and had the good sense to catch himself on his hands, but he felt a spear of pain moments later that had nothing to do with his head, and he realized he must have fallen onto something with thorns.

Before he passed out from the pain and the throbbing in his temples, he saw a shadow moving in front of him.

It was probably Newt or Tina doubling back for him, so he smiled faintly, as black washed over his vision.

* * *

 

The sound of gentle rain filled his ears, the slip and slide as water ran off the trees and leaves and pitter-patted on the ground, and Credence hummed to himself, not quite wanting to open his eyes and have to resume his work. After all, he’d hurt his head, and needed his rest.

But an insistent hand was prodding at his satchel, which was still around his body, strapped across his chest, and he sighed,

“Tina, what is it you need with my notes?”

Instead of her musical voice replying with some chastisement, he got a rumbley growl in reply. It sounded a bit like thunder, but much closer and more concentrated. Most definitely not Tina then.

Was Newt sick, or imitating one of his creatures he hoped to find?

Credence sighed again and opened his eyes, only to find someone else entirely looming over him.

He opened his mouth to cry out, when Newt’s words filled his mind and he knew it would probably be quite startling to the creature in front of him.

Well, not exactly that, it was definitely a man, but like no man Credence had ever seen.

Miles and miles of tan muscled skin and long dark hair over his head, along with enchanting liquid eyes, fixed pointedly on him.

“I, uh, sorry, who are you?”

The man didn’t say anything, merely reached for him again, that time instead of his bag, he tugged gently at Credence’s hair, fingers rubbing a lock of it as he stared.

“Can you speak english?”

He tried again, and the man dropped his hand from his hair and traced over his collar, the edge of his jacket, and Credence decided that maybe no, the man couldn’t understand him, or he was just having a very strange dream while he snoozed on the jungle floor.

From where he sat, he appeared to be inside the hollow of a tree, but he knew that had to be impossible. 

When the man’s hand slipped inside the flap of his shirt, as Credence had kept the top three buttons undone to help combat the heat when it wasn’t raining, and he had never thought his shoulders and neck were erogenous zones, until a total stranger with life roughened hands was touching him there.

‘’Can you–” Stop, was what he’d been trying to say, until he let his eyes glaze over the man, and he noticed with a bit of shock that he was naked. He gulped, and the man loomed closer, almost pressing him back, back against the softness of whatever material he was lying on, and his breath caught in his chest as the man’s other hand grazed over his face, fingers caressing his cheek and jawline.

His words were failing him, and the man’s own face was so close, he could almost count the freckles on his cheeks and the eyelashes framing his dark eyes.

“What…”

_‘What do you want?’_

That was starting to become more obvious the longer he let the man explore him, wordlessly, and with just his strong hands.

He didn’t know what to do, and he had no hope of fighting the man off, considering the ropey muscles evident on his arms and legs.

When his shirt was ripped open, he didn’t mourn the scattering buttons, because all he could focus on was the hand on his waist, and the other at his neck, holding him still as molten lips made contact with his mouth.

* * *

 

The pale boy was so beautiful, and so different from himself, he wasn’t sure why, but he couldn’t stop touching him. It had been so long since he’d seen another human being, it was like he was drawn to the boy, gravity telling him yes, that his arrival was the reason for his solitude to come to an end.

The boy wasn’t there to do  _that,_  not at all, he was simply there to observe and take notes, from what Graves had seen of the three in the group. They were intent on documenting creatures and mapping out uncharted portions of the jungle.

A noble goal.

Graves had been there nearly a decade, had lost himself in the wilds after having suffered through losing his identity to some pathetic half formed criminal. There was no going back to a normal life after that.

Well, maybe he could have a semblance of it.

Something so delicate and skittish had almost stumbled right into his home territory, so he would be careful with it, and he could feel by the way the boy trembled that he wasn’t afraid of him per se, more of  _himself._

He growled again, into the kiss on those plush pink lips, and moved away, nipping at the porcelain skin of the boy’s neck, and feeling the way the slim body arched beneath him.

The heat coming off of his own body was affecting the boy and he could hear a whimper escape that perfect throat.

“You shouldn’t…”

Oh, but he wanted to. He needed more skin bared to his eyes, he was starving for it.

He saw the boy’s lashes flutter when he dared to dip a hand lower, grazing over his khaki pants, nudging against the growing lump he could already feel getting harder.

It was good the boy couldn’t see how excited he already was, to have such a warm and willing body to hold close, and he used his other hand to urge the boy to shed his shirt and jacket completely, watching as he did so with slow lazy motions, still recovering from his nap.

The boy had banged his head pretty good, but a careful application of moss mixed with herbs and a touch of rainwater had brought the swelling down almost at once. Living in the jungle for so long, Graves had found many a medical solution that he wouldn’t have expected. The boy’s hands had been scraped up a bit, and so a touch of aloe had helped the cuts stop stinging. They might still be sore as they healed the next day.

The boy had been so light in Graves’ arms, as he had carried him up into his tree house, he’d almost been tempted to leave him be until he woke, before putting food and drink in front of him. But his ever selfish nature won out, and he chose pleasure over nurturing.

Curiosity, Graves supposed he could have also considered it.

Now, as he steadily undressed the boy with only a slight bit of urging, he found that indeed, he might need to insist they both ate after indulging in each other, for the curve and edge of his ribs could easily be counted, and Graves worried for how sharp his hipbones were.

He hummed into the boy’s skin, pressing his lips over flushing skin and peaked nipples and he felt a wayward hand tangle in his long hair, as a gasp left the boy’s kiss reddened lips.

When he reached down to begin undoing the boy’s pants, he felt the slender body trembling again, and he looked up, the boy’s hand still in his hair but not stopping him or tightening, only to find dark eyes and quivering lips, and flushed cheeks, a sure sign that whatever he was about to do next was not un-welcomed, just anticipated.

So he continued.

He put a hand up to drag down the boy’s pants, underwear and all, and was quite delighted by the gorgeous cock he found.

He wished he could give up the charade to whisper all the dirty things he wanted, to compliment the perfect thickness of the shaft, and the way the arousal swollen head wept tantalizingly, curving up against the boy’s stomach, but he supposed mere actions would have to suffice.

Once the boy’s clothing was completely discarded away, he crawled back over top the boy’s body, bracketing it beneath his, and he sank down, grinding his hips against the sharp slim ones, ripping a moan from that pale throat, which he chased after with a fierce kiss.

He pressed closer, rutting himself over the boy’s cock, relishing the way it felt every time their lengths rubbed against one another, and he could feel the boy’s hips stuttering, trying to match him, thrust for thrust, until he felt long fingered hands on his biceps, tightening almost painfully so, as the boy broke the kiss to gasp,

“I’m sorry, I can’t… ungh…”

Graves glanced down to find the boy’s cock pulsing, twitching untouched as he spilled onto his stomach and up his chest, chest heaving for air, as he collapsed against the blankets beneath him, hardly aware of what had happened.

God, what a gorgeous picture he made.

Graves didn’t let up, for he wasn’t done, and he certainly suspected the boy could go again, in due time.

He trailed biting kisses down the boy’s neck, lapped at the mess the boy had made of himself, and he had never thought he’d be thirsty and desperate enough to do so, the way the boy shivered and whimpered, made it all well worth the effort.

He put a hand to the boy’s cock and found him still somewhat hard, so perhaps he had just needed a taste to take the edge off. He stroked his hand roughly a couple times, gauging the boy’s sensitivity, and judging by the way he sighed prettily, he didn’t mind it too much.

The boy’s thigh was in the perfect spot for him to rub over, to try and seek out a hint of relief, as he suspected that trying to hint at the fact that he wanted the boy’s pretty mouth on him right then and there might not go too well, and it was an embarrassingly short amount of time before he was panting onto the boy’s stomach, hands probably bruising over his hips, just shy of coming.

He pulled back, only to grit his teeth, delaying, always delaying. He wanted to be able to come with the boy, and the sweetness of it all only made him ache harder.

“Why did you stop?”

Graves put one hand to the boy’s lips, shushing him, and his other hand to the boy’s cock and tugged at it, gentle at first, before he could see him begin to get worked up, and he leaned down removing his hand to drag down the boy’s neck, pressing a kiss to his pink lips.

The boy’s hands were on him, grasping at his wrist and trying to halt him,

“Wait, wait, what should I do?”

A hand was dropping down to graze against his own cock, and Graves inhaled sharply before he could stop himself, eyes snapping to the boy’s, dark and endless.

“Like this?”

The boy’s voice fell to a whisper, and his fingers curled tighter, mimicking the way Graves had touched him. Instead of nodding, he merely growled low in his throat, and shifted his hips, fucking into the boy’s hand faster.

“Oh…”

Yes, indeed, the boy was learning fairly quickly what worked, and what didn’t. An accidental swipe of his thumb over the slit nearly made Graves shout, but he bit his tongue just in time.

* * *

 

Credence wasn’t sure what he was doing, but judging by the way the man reacted, it felt good, as good as when he’d accidentally been hyper stimulated just from the man’s body and rough kiss.

He’d never done anything like it before, for so much bare skin to skin contact overwhelmed him, and he had barely stopped himself from crying in frustration, as the relief had been only momentary, and he still felt an ache inside of himself, as if he needed to still be ravaged, though the stranger had been seemingly doing a thorough enough job of it.

A thought came to him, wild, unbidden and completely impossible, but he lifted a hand to the man’s right shoulder, and pushed gently, watching as the man frowned at first, but then yielded to the touch, slowly allowing Credence to move him onto his back, so that he could then climb onto his body, straddling his legs, staring down at him. 

The stranger’s hands slid down his waist and grasped at his slim hips, and Credence marveled at the difference in both their build and their skin. He suspected even if he spent time outside every day, he would merely burn and peel and never reach the state of golden brown skin the man had.

“You’re very handsome. You probably don’t know what that means, but uh, you’re the nicest looking man I’ve ever seen.”

Credence blushed even before he’d finished babbling, and he swore he saw the hint of a smile on the man’s face, a small indication that some of what he said made it through, and the hands on his body tightened slightly, before he leaned down, slotting his lips against the man’s, trying to tell him without words what he was feeling.

After a few moments, he realized the man’s hand had left one of his hips to stroke through his hair, and seemed to be pushing him away, gently, so he pulled back, and frowned down at the man,

“What’s wrong?”

The hand pressed more firmly, and he shifted a bit, until he was straddling the man’s knees, and staring at his stomach, only a few inches away from the man’s hard cock.

His hands were bracing at the man’s sides, but he was being insistent, guiding Credence’s face to nuzzle right into the small thatch of dark hair above his cock, before the man’s other hand stroked against his cock, and pointed it towards Credence’s lips.

“You want… me to put my mouth on you?”

The hand in his hair shifted around, cupping his cheek, and the man’s thumb rubbed over his bottom lip.

Credence opened his mouth, darting out his tongue to lick over the digit, and he saw the man’s eyes lock onto the movement.

Okay. Well. He could try.

He shifted away from the man’s hand, and leaned in to give the head of his cock a tentative lick, receiving a groan in reply, and an abortive movement of the man’s hips against him.

The taste was strange, but reminded him a bit of when Newt had first taken him to the seaside, and he’d stepped into the waves, gotten taken by surprise and bowled over into the water.

He’d smelled of salt water and seaweed for hours, but it wasn’t altogether unpleasant.

With a careful stroke of his hand and a bit of a harder lick, he tried his best to treat it like he would simply take care of himself, with the added bonus of what a partner might do.

He’d never allowed himself to consider such a thing, much less with a man, and when he heard before he felt the man begin to breathe faster, and growl low in his throat, so he glanced up, and saw that the man’s impressive chest and stomach muscles flexed with every move, drawing his attention, and immediately the man’s eyes snapped open, locking with him.

He wanted to apologize, but also, he wanted more.

To take something he in no way dreamed he would get the chance to do, so he pulled up and away, and crawled back over the man’s body, ignoring his own throbbing hardness in favor of rubbing against the man, wondering how to ask for what he dared to imagine.

Strong hands rose on his thighs and dipped back to grab his backside, squeezing and pulling a squeak from his lips.

“Is there anything slippery…?”

He bit his tongue, feeling foolish, but the man blinked, and then stretched out a hand, reaching towards a tray Credence hadn’t noticed before, piled with green things, leaves and plants.

There was a ragged edge leaf that the man seemed to focus on, and Credence watched as he plucked it up, and summarily snapped it in half. Clear gel seemed to ooze between the split halves, and he rubbed his fingers through it, before handing it over.

Credence realized in an instant what it was. The same cooling feeling seeped into his skin as he applied some to his palm, the soft and gentle smell of the aloe enchanting his senses. He noticed that the cuts on his hand from the rough plants he’d fallen onto were much better, and he hoped he hadn’t bled on anything.

He shook himself, returning to the somewhat daunting task at hand. Although it was easy enough to slick up the man’s cock, came after might not be as much. From the silky smooth touch of aloe against such sensitive skin he watched the man’s eyes roll back, closing tight, as if trying to resist the urge to move against him, Credence gulped again, before leaning forward, lips poised to kiss the man as he shifted up, to be able to properly press back onto him.

It wouldn’t work without some caution, and he’d heard about it enough, only in the negative, as his mother had been quite adamant about such things leading directly to hell.

But in a way, she had considered the wilds of a jungle to be its own kind of hell, so what did it matter?

He jumped at the feel of the man’s hand on his back, smearing the cool wetness down between his cheeks, and then pressing against his hole, and he almost let out a whimper, but bit his lip instead.

He’d been about to do that, because he hadn’t known how to ask.

Falling forward to rest his forehead against the man’s shoulder, he let the man use his strong fingers to slowly work him apart, loosening him just enough so that he could shift back and start to ease the desperate need that seemed to be burning low in his abdomen by letting the man inside of him.

The man’s grip changed to rest on his waist, and he didn’t push Credence, he simply held on, letting him set the pace.

Credence had no better of an idea of what he was doing than anyone, and his arms were shaky as he braced his palms into the softness beneath the man’s head.

“It’s like nothing that… nothing I’ve ever felt.”

The hand on his right hip squeezed a bit, and a thumb was rubbing soothing circles over his skin, but it didn’t keep him from still feeling flushed, and chasing after anything to help.

His cock was bobbing against his stomach, drooling slightly onto the man’s chest, and he wished he could ask the man to touch him there, but short of guiding his hand right to it, there wasn’t a way to do so.

* * *

 

Well call Graves impressed, and slap him across the face, the boy with skin like moonlight on a lake was letting him fuck him, riding him like some kind of stallion and seemingly drowning in the pleasure it was bringing him.

He was going to come in less than a minute, he could already feel the tight hot muscle clenching around him, and Graves wouldn’t fare much better, but god, the sounds the boy made, breathless noises and whimpering pleas, with just the hint of tears streaking down his cheeks, well, he was stunning.

He wanted to tell him, the words were itching in his throat, begging to overcome the groan that would escape him when he finally, blissfully came, hot seed spilling out into the perfect creature on top of him.

“Oh-h-h…”

Shuddering over him, the boy leaned down to press his forehead against Graves’ and he could feel dampness hitting the top of his cheeks. More tears, but tears of unspeakable joy, he knew.

He unlocked a hand from the boy’s waist and stroked mindlessly over his cock, dragging out his orgasm as long as possible, until the boy was almost flinching away, and moving up and off to curl against his side, seeking out comfort and contact, even with Graves’ come probably cool and sticky between his thighs.

He rubbed a hand over the boy’s back, feeling as his breathing slowed, and his long lashes fluttered closed, tears drying on his cheeks.

The boy would sleep well tonight, Graves was certain, for after a glorious climax like that, how could he not?

When he was positive the boy had passed out, he leaned over to press a kiss to his cheek, and murmured as low as he dared,

“Thank you, dear boy.”

As the boy slept, Graves carefully extracted himself from him, and began to pull in some of the collected rainwater from his reservoir outside, first for a drink, and then for a way to clean the boy up.

By the time the sun was beginning to peer over the horizon, Graves suspected his guest would probably be awakening. He was proven correct when he walked over to look down at him, admiring the way one dark curl fell across his face, making him look dazzling, and it made something pang inside his chest. He couldn’t keep the boy; surely his companions would long be searching for him.

It merely seemed that the boy’s appearance had given him the push he needed, to attempt to return to the real world. He’d sulked long enough; he knew the president would probably say. There was no point pretending that his exile was anything but self imposed. 

Reaching out before he could stop himself, he caressed the boy’s face, and watched as his dark eyes opened slowly, and widened.

“You’re real? It wasn’t a fever dream? We… oh god.”

The boy glanced down at himself, finding only a light coverlet that Graves had draped over him in the middle of the night, and he smirked.

“Oh god indeed. You little minx. You bewitched me with your mind. Stole my heart without a word in return. But I think you have a trek to go on. People to seek out. Hmm?”

The boy’s jaw dropped.

“You can speak? You could understand me? Oh no…”

He seemed to be recalling the sweet words he’d said, perched above Graves, before completely taking him by surprise.

Graves shrugged.

“In a way, sex is the language we all share. But yes, sweet thing, I did. I assure you, after we part ways today, I will never see or speak of you again. You have my word.”

He held out the boy’s clothing, folded carefully, and hoped it would do for a peace offering. He stared at it, and then back up to Graves’ face.

He looked a bit sad.

“You don’t want to ever…?”

“Surely you want to put this far from your mind? A chance encounter with a stranger in a jungle?”

The boy nodded, but Graves could see that he was probably doing it out of obligation.

He dressed silently, and accepted his bag from where Graves had put it on his makeshift desk, before he glanced to the opening of the tree house, swallowing.

“How will I get down?”

Graves smiled and moved closer, seeing a slight shiver run through the boy’s slender form,

“I’ll carry you.”

* * *

 

_6 months later_

* * *

Credence had taken notes until his fingers were sore, and he’d followed Newt and Tina around like a dutiful… well, mooncalf, he supposed, it was the closest thing.

Back in New York City, with Newt’s help, the notes had been turned into a field manual, along with his illustrations and Tina’s publishing contacts, it was set to hit shelves within the week. He was more nervous than anything else, and surely it wouldn’t be helped by the coffee’s he was on the way to retrieve, at Tina’s request.

The door to the cafe jingled as he walked through it, and the line was daunting, but he stepped up to enter it. Once his turn finally arrived, he recited the proper order for Newt, Tina and his own drinks, before obediently stepping aside to wait for their completion.

Staring out the nearest window at the traffic zooming by, he eventually felt a strange prickling on the back of his neck, like someone was watching him. He jerked his head around to see a customer a few table rows down doing just that, before glancing down and back at the book in front of them.

Credence found himself lost then, looking at heavy brows framing dark eyes, hair with touches of silver at the temples, and skin unusually tanned for the middle of winter.

He barely heard his name for the order called, and he retrieved the coffees in a daze, before feeling his own feet betraying him, leading him over to the table where the attractive stranger sat.

“Excuse me greatly, but, do I know you?”

The man looked up from his book, which had moving pictures inside of it, not quite slamming it shut, he locked eyes with Credence, and the ghost of a smile quirked his lips,

“I should think so, my little jungle sprite.”

* * *

 

 


End file.
